


Love Rain Down

by phyripo



Series: 12 Days of Ship Dominoes [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Kissing in the Rain, Semi-explicit sex, Sex in a Car, That's it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-23 15:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17082779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phyripo/pseuds/phyripo
Summary: MarchThe weather threatens to ruin Noah’s carefully planned date, but he’s somehow forgotten that Angélique’s enthusiasm is notoriously difficult to deter, let alone with some rain drops.





	Love Rain Down

**Author's Note:**

> sjadgl this became slightly more explicit than I wanted it to be rIP. Not very much so, though. Anyway LuxSey is cute 
> 
> FEATURING  
> Luxembourg - Noah  
> Seychelles - Angélique

“— _we go to the weather. Today is shaping up to be rainy, with_ —”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Noah tells his car radio. He sighs, looking out of his window at the dreary parking lot. It hasn’t started yet, but it’s obvious that the rain will come soon. The rest of the asphalt is empty, likely because everyone else is smart and hasn’t decided to take their girlfriend out to a park in the middle of March.

The girlfriend in question is walking up to the car, looking unconcerned as always in a short skirt and a denim jacket, backpack slung over one shoulder. Her dark curls frame her face when she smiles and waves in Noah’s direction. He waves back and gets out of his car to walk towards her.

“Hi,” she says, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. She smells like coconut.

“Hey, Angélique. You look beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replies, tugging at his dark blue jacket.

“Thank you.” He cocks his head, swipes the hair that falls into his face as a result away. “I know I said we’d eat here somewhere, but the weather isn’t… Cooperating.”

In response, Angélique laughs warmly, brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

“It never does, does it? I don’t mind, though. It’s pretty warm; we could at least walk around a little.”

With an anxious glance at the grey sky, Noah agrees, because it’s hard to deny Angélique anything. They haven’t been dating for very long yet, but it has been long enough for him to know that she’s great, that she’s good at making him happy, and that he’d like to have her around for a while.

“Come on!” she says, grasping his hand and tugging him off the parking lot and into the park, in which only a few people are walking too, most accompanied by their dogs.

Noah shifts, looping his arm through Angélique’s, and listens to her melodious voice as she talks about her day, gesturing with her free arm. Her warmth is comforting against his side, even if, as she said, it isn’t _cold_ outside. March weather is capricious.

The first raindrops are barely noticeable, especially shielded by the young leaves on the trees as the two of them are, but one hits Noah’s face, and he grimaces.

“It’s just water,” Angélique tells him, winking when he frowns in her direction. “Don’t be uptight, Noah.”

“I’m not uptight, I’m dry, and I’d like to stay that way,” he says, only half-joking.

“Well, look at it this way.” She pulls her arm out of his and twirls around, spreading her hands in front of him on the path, on which more drops start showering down by the second. “A whole park just for us!”

It’s true that there’s no one else around anymore, but Noah thinks that says more about him and Angélique than it does about those people. Still, his girlfriend’s optimism makes him smile, and he doesn’t protest when she tugs him down the path again, entwining their fingers.

A bedraggled squirrel shoots into a tree, and she gazes at it for a while, seemingly enamored, while Noah watches her. Her hair is glistening with small drops of water now, the shoulders of her jacket darkened. Noah’s own hair is already stringing in front of his eyes, thin and turned dark brown with moisture easily.

The rain is getting heavier fast. Noah’s white shirt starts sticking to his chest, but he finds he doesn’t mind so much, because Angélique turns to him, bites her lip, and trails her fingers over the fabric. Water clings to her eyelashes when she looks down, drops rolling down between the freckles on her skin. Her shirt has become nearly see-through as well, the outline of a bra visible underneath her jacket. Noah licks his lips, tasting rainwater.

“See, it isn’t so bad,” Angélique says.

“I guess not.” He wants to bend down to kiss her, but her eye is caught by something behind him, and before he gets there, she has leaped away—towards a _playground_ of all things, he sees when he turns, and by the time he goes after her, she’s enthusiastically swinging, her hair flying everywhere.

“Push me!” she shouts, and again, he can’t deny her.

Noah knows he’s too stiff sometimes, so this can only be good. It feels good.

After a short while, Angélique launches herself off the swing, laughing at him when he comes in her direction, concerned, and then she does kiss him, winding both arms around his neck and arching her back to press herself against him. Noah licks the water from her lips, pushes his hands across her wet back underneath the denim jacket and the backpack. Her mouth is searing hot compared to the rain, to the wet clothes stuck to his skin.

She runs her hands down his chest, and he splutters a laugh into her mouth when she pushes her fingers up underneath it, just over the edge of his pants.

Her eyes seem sharper framed by the wet eyelashes, with her curls weighed down until they’re plastered across her forehead. Noah gently pushes one away; Angélique reaches back up and slicks his hair back in return.

“Classy,” she says, considering him. He wriggles his eyebrows, and she laughs, eyes bright, then shivers.

“Maybe we should get out of the rain before it gets too much.”

“Probably smart, yeah.”

So they quickly walk back to the empty parking lot, and Angélique hesitates when Noah opens the passenger side door. He raises his eyebrows in question.

“It probably isn’t the best idea to get your whole car wet,” she says faintly.

“It’s alright, I’ll get it cleaned,” Noah replies. He closes the car door and opens the backseat one instead. “There might be a towel in here, now that I think about it.”

Angélique gets in, then calls for him because she doesn’t see the towel, and when Noah climbs into the backseat, pants dragging against the leather, she bites her lip and gestures helplessly, backpack on the rear shelf. The whole seat is wet, and Noah decides he really doesn’t care, pulls the door closed behind him, and kisses her again. She gasps into his mouth but returns the kiss eagerly, her hands around his jaw.

There’s just enough space that he can turn on the seat, putting one knee on the leather and a foot on the floor. Angélique makes a noise halfway between amused and confused, breaking away from him and surveying the situation. It’s a little dark in the car, but still easily light enough to see that her wet skirt has rucked up her thighs and that her lips are parted and eyes wide.

“That’s new,” she breathes, and Noah feels himself flush. “Good new, though.”

“Yeah? Sorry, I’m not sure what I’m doing.”

“Why don’t we find out?” she asks, and wriggles out of her jacket with difficulty, her tongue between her lips and her eyebrows furrowed. When she’s done, she grins triumphantly and flings the thing on to the rear shelf as well.

Noah, nodding breathlessly—because this is _definitely_ unlike him, and it’s madly thrilling—shrugs his own jacket off as well, hitting his hand on the ceiling and clunking his phone, which is in an inner pocket, against the window. Angélique laughs at him, and he kisses her again to stifle it.

With her slowly sliding down against the door of the car, sideways on the seat, Noah isn’t sure where to put his hands. He settles for leaning one on the backrest, and when Angélique slides down so much that she has to bend her knees behind him, he grasps her thigh with the other one, running his cold fingers up her wet skin unhindered by her skirt, which has slid all the way to her waist. When he reaches the edge of her underwear, he licks his lips and runs his fingertips underneath it. Even that is wet.

Angélique smiles mischievously, her hair everywhere and her hands tugging at the edge of his clingy shirt in return. With a glance out of the window, Noah sits up enough to pull it over his head, his heart beating in his throat. Angélique breathes heavily and wriggles underneath him, apparently trying to undo the row of buttons on her skirt and failing, but he doesn’t really care and pushes her hands away.

“Oh?” She sounds surprised, and her expression shifts to curious.

“I’m pretty sure this is illegal,” Noah says, but he’s pushing her wet tank top up at the same time, over her simple blue bra. His own hair falls in front of his eyes.

“Hmm, you’re a criminal,” she teases, arching her back when he skates his fingertips over her ribs.

He takes the opportunity to unclasp her bra, and it’s rather awkward to push all her clothes up like this, but she doesn’t seem inclined to sit up and take them off properly, so Noah will take it. Especially because she moans beautifully when he puts his mouth on her, tasting the rain on her skin. She tangles her fingers in his wet hair, runs them down his neck and over his shoulder blades, then back up to grasp his jaw and pull him up to her to kiss him again.

Noah needs to break for breath quickly, because his position is not really the easiest one to hold, but Angélique takes it in stride, shifting to push her nose along his neck, lips pressed into the hollow of his throat. He wonders if she can hear his heart beat over the rain pounding on the roof of the car.

 “Are you alright?” she asks, muffled and barely audible over the rain.

“Fine,” he groans. “Just not very comfortable.”

She hums, then pushes both hands against his chest until he sits up, hitting his head on the ceiling.

“Oh, god.” She’s laughing at him, and he throws her a mock glare. “Grab my backpack?”

He does, taking the opportunity to crack his back while Angélique holds the bag over her face and pulls something out, then flings it back on the shelf.

“Better?” she asks, with a teasing undertone, so Noah decides to reply to that by leaning over her and pushing his mouth against her neck, putting his forearms on the seat—and partly on her hair. He hopes she doesn’t try to move too much.

She does, of course, and it hurts her and they have to fumble around until her hair is out of the way, but then they’re kissing again, and Noah is licking water from Angélique’s collarbones while she arches into him, pushing down on the knee he’s got between her legs.

Her hands are on his chest, and the rain beats on the roof ever so loudly, swallowing the little sounds that she makes while she tries to fumble his pants open.

“Shut up,” she says when he chuckles, and he hums against her.

Instead of helping, he extracts one of his own arms from the mass of wet curls draped over it and pushes it over her underwear so that she gasps and twitches, nearly kneeing him in the side.

“Terrible man,” she gasps. “Why do I put up with— _ah_!”

“I wonder.”

“ _Horrible_ ,” she emphasizes, as she finally succeeds in yanking his pants open, and the satisfied spark in her dark eyes is enough to make Noah swallow heavily, arousal curling in his stomach.

It’s warm in the car. The windows are fogging up, and Noah hopes so much no one else gets the idea to go to the park right now, because Angélique is wriggling her fingers into his pants and he can only try not to fall off the car seat, keep his own fingers on her in return.

“Wait, Angélique.”

“Hm?”

“We’re going to need—”

“A condom?” she finishes, and then triumphantly holds one up to him after fishing around next to the seat. “I’m aware.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, and she laughs, pushing the package into his hand.

With difficulty, he sits up again, because he’s got the thing now, might as well use it, and she watches curiously while he fumbles the condom out to put it on. She looks like a mess in the best way possible, several strands of hair stuck to her face and skin glistening with moisture, her wet skirt around her waist and her top and bra pushed up above her breasts. Noah swallows, clenching his jaw.

“Alright there, Krier?” she pants.

“What do you _think_?”

“I think you’re sitting awfully still.”

“Absolutely not,” he replies, grinning and grabbing her hips, and she looks pleasantly surprised as he pulls her underwear halfway down her thighs. The fabric rolls itself into a twist, which Noah frowns at.

“You’re doing it again,” Angélique says, pulling her knees up to slide her underwear all the way off. “I know you don’t do that usually.”

“I’m usually not doing something illegal,” he argues, and the answering laugh turns into a breathy moan halfway through when he pushes his fingers into her.

“ _Yes_.”

She arches her back again, pushing one hand against the door behind her.

He’d usually take more time, but he can’t help thinking about what would happen if someone caught them out here, so he catches her eye and sends her a questioning look, huffing when he gets an unimpressed nod in return. He takes the hint, though, and presses into her carefully, holding her darkened gaze with his own.

Honestly, it’s all over far too quickly after that, with him thrusting gently but quickly and her pushing back eagerly, panting as he puts his fingers on her again.

Noah comes undone with a groan he muffles into his own hand until Angélique tugs it away from his face and digs her nails into it when she follows him over the edge, her breath coming out in a rush.

He can’t collapse on to the seat like he would on a bed, so Noah sits back instead, leaning heavily against the backrest while Angélique drapes her legs across his lap.

“I guess illegal things aren’t always bad,” she says faintly, and he can only laugh in return—rather hysterically, when the situation really dawns on him, and although she looks bewildered, it isn’t long before she breaks down in giggles as well.

“God, Ange, we’ve got to go before someone else comes.”

“ _Before someone else comes_ ,” she repeats between peals of laughter.

“Shut up.”

Instead, she sits up, kisses his cheek, and tugs her tank top and skirt down, though she discards her bra and doesn’t bother to search for her underwear.

“I’ll drive, then, hm?”

Still a little dazed, Noah just hums.

“ _Men_ ,” she says, and then she’s crawling into the front seat to start the car.

Somehow that’s the hottest thing Noah’s seen all day, and he can’t wait to get home.

“ _Seatbelt_!” Angélique cautions.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She looks over her shoulder while backing out of the parking spot and smiles a confident smile at him that sends a new wave of arousal through his body.

 _Alright_. He’ll never complain about bad weather again.

**Author's Note:**

> [Also on Tumblr!](http://monabela.tumblr.com/post/181500165180/day-three-of-ship-dominoes-where-i-write-twelve)
> 
> Tomorrow: Seychelles/Australia


End file.
